


Prince Bilbo and the Huntsman

by k9dixie548



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Based on the movie "Snow White and the Huntsman", Bilbo is a Prince of Hobbits, Bilbo's Parents - Freeform, M/M, who die in the first chapter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-29
Updated: 2015-02-09
Packaged: 2018-01-10 11:06:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1158968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/k9dixie548/pseuds/k9dixie548
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Once upon a time the evil King Smaug ruled over the land of Hobbits. He had kept the Prince, Bilbo locked away in a tower. Smaug was confident that he was the most fairest of them all, until Bilbo came of age....</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

_Once upon a time, in bright summer, a hobbit Queen was admiring the bright sunshine and blooming flowers when she came across a dying rose bush. On that rose bush was one rose, still blooming in defiance of the fate of its host. Reaching for it, she pricked her finger and three drops of blood fell. And because the red seemed so bright and alive, much like the rose, she thought “if only I had a child as golden as the sun, eyes as green as grass, lips as red as blood, and all with the strength of that rose.”_

_Soon after, a son was born to the King and Queen. They named the Bilbo, which meant “bright” in their native tongue. And he was adored throughout the kingdom, as much for his defiant spirit as for his charm and beauty._

When the seasons were just starting to change from summer to fall, and the wheat was golden and ready for harvest, three children were seen walking through the fields. The tallest had raven hair pulled back in a ponytail and blue eyes, with just the starting of a beard to be seen. While this may have been odd for normal children, this child was a dwarf, and for him it was quite natural. He held the hand of the smallest child, whose eyes were of the same shade of blue, though his hair was the color of sunshine. The middle child was ahead of the two others, leading them onwards. He had bright green eyes, golden honey colored curls, and a charm and beauty that all knew. He was the prince of the hobbit kingdom. He carried an injured raven in his hands, while another flew behind him.

 

As the three walked through the fields and village, all smiled and nodded at them before returning to their business. The kingdom was happy and prosperous and all were joyful here, as hobbits are supposed to be. Eventually they made it to the castle, where they were met by the King and Queen.  The prince rushed to his mother and held out the bird.

 

“We found it in the woods,” he said, placing the bird in her hands. “It’s injured, Mother.”

 

The Queen cooed at the bird. “It must have broken its wing,” she replied. She cupped the hands of her son and smiled softly at him. “Do not worry, it will heal in time.”

 

“I’ll look after it,” Bilbo said earnestly to his mother.

 

The King and Queen looked at each other, smiles growing wider. “My dear lad,” said the King, kneeling down to look Bilbo in the eyes, “you possess a rare beauty and strength.” Moving his hand to rest on Bilbo’s heart he added, “In here most of all. Never lose it. It will serve you well when you become King.”

 

Later the three children were running in the garden, the youngest lagging behind. “Thorin! Bilbo! Wait up!” he yelled, trying to keep up to the older children.

 

The eldest laughed. “Come on Frerin, it’s only to the apple tree. We’re almost there.” Never the less, he doubled back and scooped up his younger brother. He placed him on his shoulders and together they met up with their hobbit friend. Together the three of them climbed up the tree and started to collect the apples hanging there. Soon, Bilbo saw one of the most magnificent apples there was hanging on the top branches. Thorin quickly climbed up and started to reach out for it, hanging off another branch.

 

“Be careful you don’t fall,” Bilbo called, worried about his friend.

 

“I’m just getting you that apple,” Thorin replied. He finally got it and came down. He handed it out to Bilbo, who started to reach for it. But quick as a flash, Thorin pulled it away.

 

“Thorin!” Bilbo cried disappointed. Thorin grinned cheekily and took a big bite out of the apple. Once more scooping up Frerin, he dashed away, both grinning at the cries of “Thorin!” coming from behind.

 

_The next winter was the harshest in memory, and Bilbo’s father passed away. His mother grieved, but stood strong and carried her kingdom through the winter. Soon after, a dark and mysterious army appeared and lured her into battle._

The Queen Belladonna rode ahead of her army, an army of hobbits, elves, men and dwarves, for all were threatened by this new army which had appeared. As they cleared the forest they rode through, they found themselves faced with a massive army of black soldiers. As they rode towards it, the Queen put up her sword and cried out “Whatever devil spawned this army, we will send them back to hell! Take no prisoners!” The men and women behind her roared in answer and charged at their waiting foe.

 

The battle was short, but fierce. The black soldiers were strong and deadly, merciless in their bloodshed. However, every time they were cut down they shattered into black glass. Soon, the battle was easily won.

 

_The dark army was defeated, but what would soon come to pass was far darker._

As the Queen was surveying the battlefield, she heard someone call out to her. She walked towards the sound and soon came across her friend, the King of the Dwarves, standing next to a dilapidated covered wagon. “A prisoner, my lady, kept by the dark army.”

 

“Open it,” she commanded. The soldiers around her quickly opened the wagon up and the Queen stared into the gloom. In the far corner she saw a body shift, trying to hide from the light. “Fear not,” she called. “You will come to no harm from me or my men.” The shadows moved and a young man moved out of the shadows and into the light. He had dark red hair, skin as pale as the snow, and bright yellow eyes. “What is your name, lad?” asked the Queen.

 

Shakily, the young man looked at her and replied “Smaug, your majesty.”

 

_So enchanted by the boy was the Queen, that she brought him back to her kingdom and the very next day adopted him as her elder son._

The young man was standing up on a stool, surrounded by tailors who were pinning and fixing his new regalia, for he was to be introduced to the kingdom as the new Crown Prince. Sitting on a bench was Bilbo, who was no less enchanted by his new older brother than his mother was. “You’re so handsome brother,” Bilbo chimed, swinging his little legs back and forth.

 

“That’s kind, child.” The young man smiled and tilted his head. “Especially when it is said that yours is the face of true beauty and love in this kingdom.” The young man beckoned to his new sibling, and Bilbo hopped of the stool and moved forwards. Smaug bent down so he could look Bilbo in the eyes. “This all must be difficult for you. I, too, lost my father when I was a young boy. Though,” he chuckled, “I did not get a new brother as you are now. I cannot take your father’s place, but I feel that you and I are bound.” His head tilted again and he looked towards the younger boy’s heart. “I feel it there. Your heart.” Bilbo looked down at his own heart and back up. He smiled at his new brother.

 

Soon the new royal family walked out of the castle gates and onto the street. Everyone was smiling and waving, but Smaug noticed something. The people were polite, but they were not smiling at him. He looked over his shoulder and realized that the people were smiling at Bilbo. While Bilbo smiled at his older brother, Smaug merely nodded and faced forwards again, eyes shifting as thoughts filled his head.

 

And so a year passed. Soon, Smaug was of age and a great celebration was held though the kingdom. That day would soon live in infamy as the greatest calamity to fall the kingdom. That night, Smaug came to see his adopted mother in her chambers. She was in her robe, sitting on her bed and reading a book. She smiled as she saw her eldest and put the book down. “Why Smaug, do come in. What is on your mind?”

 

Smaug drew closer to his mother’s side. “Mother, now that I am of age, is it not time for me to start helping you rule?” he asked, tilting his head to the side.

 

The Queen laughed and shook her head. “Oh my lad, you have just come of age and I am still young yet. There is no need for you to start filling in just yet.” She did not see how a look of rage had taken over the man’s face.

 

Quick as lightning, the young man brought down the dagger he had hidden in his robes and buried it in the Queen’s bosom. She coughed up a trickle of blood and looked up at him in horror. He sneered and said, “Well then, you have no further use to me.” As the Queen fell back onto the bed, life fading, Smaug went to the bedside table where the old King’s crown was kept and placed it on his head. He spun on his heels and walked out of the room, not once looking back at the woman who had loved him, now lying dead.

 

The Prince, now King, walked through to the gates and opened them, letting forth an army of men in black uniforms, who quickly overtook the unaware castle guards. The evil King walked forwards and caressed the check of a pale man with white hair and coal black eyes. “Welcome, brother Azog,” the King said.

 

_He had tricked his way into the kingdom with his phantom army. He now welcomed a very real one._

Bilbo awoke to the sound of alarm bells ringing and footsteps rushing through the hall. Confused, he opened the door. People were rushing around the castle, panic stricken. Bilbo rushed into his mothers room and gasped, horrified to see his beloved mother dead in her bed, a knife sticking out of her chest. Hearing footsteps, he turned and saw Smaug, wearing the crown of the King, looking at him. Behind Smaug were soldiers in black uniforms. Panicked, Bilbo looked from his mother, to Smaug, then back again, before turning and fleeing down the hall.

 

Soon, he reached the main entrance. People were screaming and fighting all around the courtyard. Just then, Thorin, Frerin and their father rode up, the boys in front of the King holding onto the horse. “Bilbo! Get on Bilbo!” Thorin cried, holding out his hand for his friend to take.

 

Just as Bilbo was about to reach Thorin’s hand, he was grabbed by an enemy soldier and pulled back. “Thorin!” he cried out. “Help me!”

 

“The Prince!” Shouted the Dwarf King. “Grab the Prince!” Another soldier quickly dispatched of the enemy holding onto Bilbo and rushed with him towards the gate. However, just as they were about to reach the gate, an arrow shot the soldier in the back and he fell on top of the young prince.

 

Bilbo was able to push the dead body away, tears streaming down his face and rushed to the gate. But he was too late. The gate closed just as he reached it. He was trapped. “Thorin! Don’t leave me!” he screamed out.

 

“Father we must go back,” Thorin urged, filled with worry for his friend. “We must!”

 

Just as the King was turning his horse around, the pale man, Azog came and carried the young hobbit away. Bilbo shrieked and fought, but it was no use. “It’s too late,” said the dwarf King. “We’ve lost him.”

 

“No!” Thorin screamed while Frerin sobbed into his chest. “No! No! Nooo!” But he could do nothing but watch as his father took him and his brother away.

 

As all of this was happening outside, the evil King paced back and forth in a round room up in a high tower. He was impatient, waiting for something. Soon, two of his soldiers arrived carrying something cloth covered. They soon pulled back the cloth to reveal a huge golden plate, so shiny and smooth it was like a golden mirror. Smaug gestured up onto wall, where the mirror was quickly hung. Still pacing back and forth, the King muttered, “Out.” After a few seconds he screamed it again. “OUT!” The guards quickly rushed out of the room, leaving the King all alone with the mirror. Once the door closed shut, the King looked up and the mirror and still pacing said, “Mirror, Mirror, on the wall, who is the fairest of them all?”

 

The mirror began to ripple and poured out a glob of liquid gold. The gold soon formed up into a man who was completely covered in a melted golden cloak. There was no face to be seen from the figure, yet it began to speak. “It is you my King,” the figure spoke. “Yet another Kingdom falls to your glory. Is there no end to your power and majesty?” The evil King smiled and looked out the window.

 

_So poisonous was the reign of Smaug, that nature turned on itself and the people turned on each other. The land died, and with it, hope. And all that time, he kept Bilbo imprisoned high up in the north tower. Soon, though no one knew it, the day came where Bilbo had come of age. And that is where our story begins._


	2. Escape

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, it's been a while since I updated. I have no excuse except that a lot of personal shit happened and that I lost the DVD I needed to write this. 
> 
> Hopefully now that I've got a new copy I will be able to update this more frequently.
> 
> (Also, in case anyone is confused, Smaug's take over happened when Bilbo was 6. If I did the math right, that should mean that Dis between 16 and 17)

Years later, a young man paced around his small room. He was of a smaller stature, with bright honey colored curls that hung messily just brushing his shoulders. No one would have guessed that he had turned 21. His bright green eyes shone out from dreadfully pale skin as he looked out from his small window. He wore a simple pair of black trousers and a thin blue shirt with sleeves so long that he had to roll them up 5 times till his hands were free. Over this was a brown tunic with red trim that was long enough to brush the floor. He was Prince Bilbo, locked away by his evil step-brother. Bilbo closed his eyes and wished, as he did every day, to one day be free from his tower and walk in the sunshine again.

 

Soon, he felt the chill of the air and scurried over to his fire place. While he may not have much, he did have some tools that would help him survive. After starting his small fire, he reached down and grasped the two dolls he had made when he was small. They were his only company. Grasping them to his chest, he recited the prayer to the Valar that his mother had taught him when he was very small.

 

After a time he heard footsteps and the sound of someone crying. Sneaking up to his door, he looked out and saw to guards shove someone into the cell across the hall from his. He waited until the guards had disappeared, then whispered out in a voice hoarse from disuse, “Hello?” He coughed and asked again, this time louder. After the second call, a woman’s face appeared in the door. She had bright blue eyes, and pitch black hair. She had a small, neatly trimmed beard as well, which gave Bilbo the notion that this was a dwarf woman, even though he had never seen one before. Bilbo moved closer to the door. “What is your name?” he asked the dwarven lady. “What happened to you?”

 

“I am Dís,” she answered shakily. “I was trying to help people escape to King Thraín’s castle when I was caught.”

 

Bilbo was surprised. He pressed himself against the door. “King Thraín? Is he still alive? Does he still fight to win mother’s kingdom?”

 

Dís gasped and put her hand to her mouth. “You’re the Queen’s son! The night that Queen Belladonna was slain, we were told all in the castle were killed as well.”

 

Bilbo looked down for a moment, thinking of what to say. After a pause he looked up and asked, “And the King’s sons? Are they still alive?”

 

Dís looked down at the ground. “I don’t know Prince. I am King Thraín’s daughter, born just after your father died. I have not seen my eldest brother in many a year, as he left not long after he came of age. My second brother is always leaving the castle despite my father’s fury and my worrying over him. I have not seen him for some time.” She swallowed and wiped tears from her eyes. “I just had my second child a few months ago. Do you think I will ever see them again?”

 

Bilbo could not find it inside himself to answer.

 

 

In the throne room of the castle, two men were brought to kneel by the guards in the room, their heads hooded and their hands shackled. The hoods on their heads were torn off to reveal an older man and his young son. They looked up at the evil King with defiance in their eyes. Even though years had passed, King Smaug looked the same as he did the day he had taken the throne. He was still pale as the snow with gold colored eyes, though there was no warmth in his gaze. He wore robes of red, with a cape of gold that shimmered and whispered when he walked, and on his head of dark red curls a black crown with a shining gem was placed.

           

One of the guards stepped forward. “These two were captured leading an ambush on one of our supply trains.”

 

Smaug cocked his head and considered the two before him. After some time he stood and looked at the older man. “Your son?” he asked. He continued on, not giving the man time to answer. “He is quite handsome. Obviously a debt owed to your mother.” He tilted the boys head up so that he looked the King in the eyes.

 

Quick as lightning the lad spun around and grabbed a knife from the guards behind him. He took that knife and stabbed it with ferocity into the King’s stomach.

 

Smaug made no noise as the blade sunk in. Smiling, he pulled the blade back out and dropped it onto the floor. There was no blood to be seen on the blade. It looked as clean as ever. The King reached down and grabbed the boy by the shirt, hauling him uptight. “So, you would kill your King?” He smirked. “Such courage. But I wonder,” he said, placing one hand on the young man’s chest, “how strong is your heart against temptation?”  What happened next no one but the King and his brother knew.

 

The young man felt something whisper inside his head. As the whispers grew louder he found his gaze drawn to the shining stone set in the King’s crown. His thoughts grew greedy, wanting to take the stone for his own. As soon as he had decided to take the stone, his heart stopped and he fell to the floor. This was the true power of Smaug. His power corrupted those he wished till all that was left in their hearts was greed, and that greed destroyed them. 

 

This power was not without a cost. Age lines were starting to appear on Smaug’s face as he turned to the old man. “Let this one go,” he commanded. “Let him return to the dwarf, and speak of the…generosity of his King.” With a whirl of the cape, he left the room, his brother following him.

 

 

In the room with the golden mirror, Smaug stood in front of it, looking at the wrinkles and strands of gray that had appeared. His hands were shaking as he traced one of the lines on his face.

 

Azog slowly walked up to stand behind his brother. “Magic comes with a lofty price, brother,” he stated calmly, resting a hand on Smaug’s shoulder.

 

“And the expense grows,” Smaug growled, scowling at his reflection.

 

“Brother, you look…” Azog began.

 

“Old!” Smaug interjected.

 

“Tired.” Corrected the other.

 

Smaug turned and faced his younger brother. “My power is fading, and I have nothing at all about where that damn dwarf and his followers are hiding. Of course I am tired.”

 

Azog smiled, a cruel twisted grin. Leaning down to bow to his King, he stated, “Then I believe I have something for what ails you.” He gestured towards the entrance of the room and turning towards it, Smaug slowly smiled. There at the doorway, held by two guardsmen, was Dís. 

 

Walking slowly towards the girl, who was quite literally shaking in her boots, Smaug smiled and shushed her. “No need to be afraid my dear,” he crooned, reaching out towards her. “I just need something from you, that’s all.”

 

 

Back in the tower Bilbo watched as Dís was shoved back into her cell. He could not see what they had done to her, only that her once raven colored hair was now as white as snow. When the guards left he called for her, but she never responded.

 

 

In the Mirror room Smaug stood in front of the Golden Figure, looking young and healthy again. “Mirror, Mirror, on the wall,” he asked. “Who is fairest of them all?”

           

“My King,” the Figure spoke in a deep voice, “on this day one has come of age, fairer even than you. He is the reason your powers wane.”

 

Smaug’s face contorted with fury. “And who,” he hissed, “might this person be?”

 

“Prince Bilbo,” responded the mirror.

           

Smaug suddenly became worried. “Bilbo? That little fool is my undoing?” The fury in his face returned, his eyes glowing. “I should have killed him when he was a child!!”

 

“Be warned,” the Figure spoke. “His loyalty and love are all that can destroy you. But,” the figure continued as Smaug opened his mouth to interrupt. “He is also your salvation, King. Take his heart in your hand and you shall never again need to consume youth. You shall never again weaken or age.”

 

Smaug smiled, a truly evil smile. “Immortality.” He whispered. “Immortality, forever.”

 

As this was happening, Azog had come into the tower and was lurking by the entrance to the Mirror room. He watched as his brother seemed to have a conversation with thin air. He knew that the magic his sibling possessed was strong and unique, but it never failed to disturb him when his brother spoke to those only he could see. When he heard Smaug call his name, he entered and bowed.

 

“Brother,” Smaug asked, all smiles and politeness, “bring me the queen’s son.” Azog nodded and bowed out of the room.

 

 

Up in the tower Bilbo despaired. He had no idea what had happened to Dís and he was scared that it could happen to him next. Suddenly, he heard a chirping noise. He looked up at his window and saw there was a raven perched on one of the bars in the window.  Amazed, he stood up and walked towards the window. He reached a hand out for the bird land on, but instead the bird turned and hopped away from Bilbo and onto, he couldn’t believe his luck, a nail sticking mostly out of the wall of stones.

 

After sending up a quick prayer, Bilbo reached out and  grasped the nail. It took most of his strength but he was able to pull the nail out of the wall. Now he had something he could use to defend himself from the guards! He did not have long to appreciate his good fortune as he heard a door slam open. Quickly he rushed onto his cot and lied down, hiding the hand with the nail under his pillow, and pretended he was asleep.

 

He didn’t have long to wait before Azog appeared at the door. He spent a few minutes looking hungrily at the young man in the cell. He then unlocked the door and slowly entered the room. Bilbo slowly turned his head to look at the albino man, keeping his hand under the pillow.

 

“Did I wake you?” Azog asked. Bilbo shook his head, not daring to speak. Azog walked forwards and sat at the foot of Bilbo’s cot. “Are you always awake when I watch you?”

 

Bilbo nodded, not looking the man in the eyes. His breath quickened as Azog laid a hand on his chest. “You’ve never come in before.” He whispered, his heart beating fast.

 

“My brother won’t allow it.” Azog replied. He slowly began to move his hand up to cup Bilbo’s cheek. “He wants you all to himself.”

 

Bilbo shivered. “I’m afraid of him.” He said, still very quiet, tears starting to pool in his eyes.

 

“And not of me?” Azog asked, eyes gleaming.

 

Bilbo shook his head, too nervous to do anything else.

 

“Fear not, little prince.” Azog traced his hand back down Bilbo’s cheek and across his throat. “You will never again be locked in this cell.”

 

Still trembling, Bilbo looked up at Azog and asked, “what does he want from me?”

 

Azog grinned malevolently and pressed his hand right over Bilbo’s heart. “This, little prince. He wants your beating heart.

 

After hearing this, Bilbo could wait no longer. Using as much strength as he could muster, he took the nail and slashed it across Azog’s face, leaving a bleeding gash across his right eye. He jumped off the cot and ran to the door, closing it behind him while Azog screamed in pain. He managed to lock the door just as Azog rushed at the door, trying to grab Bilbo through the bars.

 

As Azog yelled for the guards to be let out, Bilbo rushed to the Dís’s cell. Calling her name, he tried to unlock her door. However, when he looked up, Dís was staring out at him. She had become old and frail.

 

“Go.” she said, and when Bilbo hesitated, she yelled it again. Squeezing her hand, Bilbo turned and ran as fast as his legs could take him. He ran through hall after hall, not knowing where he was going, only knowing that it was taking him farther from his cell.

 

Eventually he reached a passage that led to the outdoors. He stopped for only a moment, blinded by the sunlight, before continuing forwards. Soon he reached a gate that opened into the castle courtyard. Being as quiet as a mouse, Bilbo snuck his way out the gate, trying to avoid being detected by the guards patrolling the area.

 

However, luck was not on his side. One of the guards by the entrance to the castle, who he had not seen, spotted him. Shouting an alert, he ran towards the prince, who quickly ran in the opposite direction. He continued running until he had no where else to go, trapped near a wall.

 

He looked around in despair and noticed the ravens. They flew across the courtyard and landed next to a hole in a wall near Bilbo. It was small opening used to wash away filth and waste from the courtyard, and it was just small enough for him to fit in. Knowing this was his only chance, Bilbo ran for the hole and slid inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed this! Please let me know if you want me to continue this.


	3. The Dark Forest

Bilbo coughed and gagged, splashing to stay above the water level. He had landed in the tunnel that all the waste from the courtyard was washed into. It was foul and dank, with the water dragging down on his tunic. His short stature meant that he had to fight to keep his head up above the disgusting water.  He knew that the guards would be coming for him, however, so he kept moving.  After what seemed like an eternity, he saw light up ahead. Moving faster, he felt his heart start to lift as he reached the exit, only to feel it sink like a stone on seeing how high up on the cliff he was.  Shaking like a leaf, he climbed out of the tunnel and onto the small ledge below. Giving the tunnel one more look, he grabbed the edges of his tunic to move his feet easier, braced himself, and leapt into the swirling water below.

The waves were strong, pushing him around and under so that he was sure he was to drown. However, he eventually reached the shore and climbed up onto the craggy rocks there, coughing and panting, his arms weak with the effort of trying to keep him afloat. When he was just about to give up hope of him ever escaping, he heard a caw form further along the beach. Lifting his head, he saw the two ravens that had lead him to his escape. Using the last of his strength, he pushed himself back onto his feet and followed the two birds.

The birds led him away from the water and through a craggy tunnel. Waiting for them at the end of the tunnel was, to Bilbo’s astonishment, a white horse. It lay on its stomach in the sands and seemed to be impatient to get going. The horse nudged his hand and allowed Bilbo to climb onto its back. Then, with Bilbo holding on for dear life, the horse stood up and rode away from the ocean and the castle.

The sun was just starting to set when Bilbo and the horse arrived at the small village. It was run down and dirty, the people living in the village just as rundown. They surrounded Bilbo, not saying a word but grasping their tools in hand.  Bilbo knew they would be unable to help him, so he pushed the horse onwards. The people watched him go, but quickly scattered as they heard the hooves of the castle’s guard, who had caught up and were hunting Bilbo down.

The white horse flew along the country side, Bilbo clinging to it with all his might, but the guards were still following them. They seemed to be drawing ever closer, like black wraiths. The sun had finally hit the horizon when they reached the edge of the dark forest, Mirkwood. No one ever went there for they knew that it was dark and full of strange magic. The closer they got to the edge, the more the horse whinnied and bucked, obviously not wanting to go near the place. Finally, the horse stopped all together, and refused to move. Bilbo pleaded with the animal, begging it to go forward, for he could just see the guards in the fading light. The horse, however, simply knelt down, allowing Bilbo to slide off its back. Bilbo gave the horse a quick embrace around its neck, then dashed into the forest.  Behind his, he could hear the horses of the guards refuse to go forward, whinnying in terror while the guards swore at them.

The forest was eerie, full of dark, bare trees and roots. Bilbo flinched and turned at every sound. He ran as fast as he could, wanting to be free of this foul place. But he did not look at where he was going and tripped on a root, landing in a patch of mushrooms that released a foul black dust. Sputtering, he got back up onto his feet, but he felt dizzy and strange, like the world was spinning around him. He stumbled forwards, bumping against the trees and eventually tripping over a tiny stream of water. When he looked up, he was horrified to see the ground was covered in dead birds, all with bloody patches on their chests and maggots crawling around them. Gagging, he shoved himself up and continued forwards, growing dizzier and scared.  He saw moving trees and dark shadows coming towards him. The ground had hundreds of black bugs scurrying around that pinched his feet when he walked. Resting his hand on a tree, he pulled back with a scream as he saw what looked like black blood oozing down towards where his hand had been.  Everything was growing and changing around him. Winged demons seemed to appear out of the trees and clawed at him. Tiny bats flew at his face and hair. So scared was poor Bilbo, that he fell backwards and hit his head on a rock on the ground. He lay there with his head hurting and his mind racing, eventually passing out onto the forest floor.

 

Smaug paced back and forth in front of his mirror, his curls askew, anger evident on every inch of his face. “How is it,” he spat at his brother on the other side of the room, “that an innocent young boy makes a fool of my brother?” Azog gulped at the rage on the elders face. Smaug came forwards. “He was only armed with a nail! If he’d had a sword, he would have taken my kingdom. ‘Bring me the Queen’s son,’ that’s all I asked and you,” he screamed, pointing at the wounded Azog, “let him slip right through your fingers! HOW!?” He began to pace again, still facing his brother and raging. “You swore that you would protect and help me! You swore! No there is not one I can trust. No one! There’s no loyalty, no loyalty at all! Not even from you.” He rushed up to Azog and screamed into his face, “Where is he?!”

Azog turned his head, unable to look his brother in the eyes. “He was chased into Mirkwood, where the men lost him.”

Smaug slapped him across the face. “He’s no good to me in Mirkwood, lost! I need his heart.” He slapped Azog again. “You failed me Azog!”

At that, Azog bowed his head. He had failed his brother, and he knew it. He waited for the next blow to come, but instead Smaug touched the mark the brat had left and it healed. His brother’s rage had calmed for now. Looking up into his brother’s eyes, he said, “I will not fail you again, brother. Tell me what I must do.”

Smaug nodded. He turned and regarded the room. “I have no powers in Mirkwood. You shall have to find me someone. Someone who knows it. Someone who can hunt him.”

 

A body flew through the air and broke through the flimsy wall. It landed on the muddy ground. It was a dwarf, with black hair that lay matted around his head and a closely trimmed beard. His clothes were dingy and dirty, and he stank of ale. He clumsily got to his feet as men in armor walked out of the hole.

“You owe me money, filth!” said one of the men.

“Well now,” the dwarf replied. “I seem to have drunk it all, but you’re welcome to it when it comes out again.” He turned to leave the man grabbed him and punched him in the stomach. The dwarf tried his best to fight back, but being so gloriously drunk, it really had no effect. Eventually, the dwarf passed out to the sound of his opponent laughing, and woke back up only when he was dumped into a trough. He shot back up out of the water and wiped his face, looking for the one who had dropped him there.

What he saw made him scowl. It was Azog and some guards from the castle, surrounding him. Azog sneered at the dwarf and said, “The King demands your presence.”

The dwarf scoffed. “Can’t you see I’m having a bath?” He was pulled up and dragged along to the castle, despite his swearing and attempts to break free.

 

Back at the castle the dwarf was bought before the evil King in his throne room. He was cleaned up before arrival and now had on a leather vest with armored shoulders over a tight fitting white shirt. His boots were dark with crossed buckles. He had leather bracers on his arms and a belt from which would have had many knives and an axe had they not been confiscated by the guards. His sword’s sheath was hung on his back, his sword also been taken. His hair was pulled back into a low ponytail and blue eyes, now unclouded from being sober, watched the King and Azog with undisguised hatred as he was pushed forwards.

“My brother tells me you are a hunter,” Smaug said once the dwarf had come near enough, “and a drunkard. He also says that you are one of the few who has ventured into Mirkwood.”

“Aye,” the dwarf replied, his voice low and quiet.

“One of my prisoners has escaped there,” Smaug said.

“Then the poor old fool is dead,” the dwarf stated bluntly.

“The young man,” Smaug continued.

“Then he is certainly dead,” the dwarf interrupted with a harsh laugh. He watched, curious, as Azog and Smaug looked at each other.

“Find him,” Smaug declared, turning back to the dwarf. “Bring him to me.”

“No!” the dwarf replied angrily. “I’ve been into that forest. I’m not going back.”

“You would be handsomely rewarded,” Smaug said, trying to sway the dwarf.

But the dwarf would not take the bait. “What good is gold to me if I’m lying dead with the crows picking at my eyes?” he asked. He gave the king a questioning look. “Why is this boy of so much value to you?”

“That is none of your concern,” barked back Azog.

“I’ll determine what concerns me, thank you,” the dwarf barked back.

“You will do this for me huntsman,” the King hissed, his eyes seeming to glow with anger.

The dwarf sneered, unafraid. “And if I refuse?” The King tilted his head and suddenly all of the guards had surrounded the dwarf, spear points just barely brushing his stomach. The dwarf glared at Smaug. “Do me the favor,” he said” I beg of you.”

“To his knees,” declared the king. The dwarf was shoved down onto his knees, though not without a fight. “So,” the king drawled, “you wish to be reunited with your love.” He smirked as the huntsman tried to leap forwards, the guards keeping him on his knees.

“You do not speak of him!” the huntsman growled.

Smaug only laughed. “You wish to be reunited with him.” The King leaned forwards, his cape seeming to whisper sweet promises as it moved. “What would you give to see him again?” Seeing the dwarf was confused, he continued on. “You know of my powers. Bring me the boy, and I will bring your beloved one back to you.”

“Nothing can bring him back!” the dwarf shouted. “He died when we were still young.”

“I can,” promised the evil King. He leaned back onto his throne and surveyed the dwarven man before him. “A life, for a life.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I really have no excuse for why this took me so long to update. But hey, we at least have "The Huntsman"!


	4. The Deal

As morning rose over Mirkwood, the huntsman led Azog and his guards through the scrub at the edge of the forest. He knelt down and studied the tracks found there, noting with interest the tracks that looked suspiciously like bare feet. “He can’t have gone far,” he mumbled. Straightening, he turned to the men behind him and stared them down. “You must do exactly as I do,” he warned them. As he turned and began walking into the forest, he shook his head and uttered under his breath, “This is a bad idea.”

 

Meanwhile, the prince started to wake from his unconscious state. When he noticed where he was, he sat up quite suddenly. He looked all around him, breathing raggedly. The forest, while still haunting and dark, was a little less frightening in the daylight. Still, he knew he could not afford to just sit on the ground. He pushed himself up and started running deeper into the forest. Just in time too, for he could start to hear the sound of boots crunching though the brush.

 

The huntsman led the men through the forest, internally moaning about the noise the guards were making. Subtle, they were not. Following the tracks before him, he realized that they had suddenly become fresh tracks. Very fresh tracks, as if made only moments before. After telling the others to stay put, he pulled out his axe and began to move quicker through the trees.

Farther along, Bilbo could just hear the voices of some men behind him, panicking, he turned and ran faster, not caring at how much noise he was making.

Azog did not want to be left behind, especially by some petty dwarf huntsman. With a nod, he and his guards followed the huntsman’s trail.

The huntsman knew he was getting close, and now his target knew he was as well. Trying to keep as silent as he can, he followed the trail of footprints and broken branches. He was getting closer. He could almost hear the frightened breaths of his quarry.

Bilbo ran as fast as he could, looking over his shoulder every couple moments to see if he was still being chased. To his horror, he could see a shadow following him, and every time he looked back at it, it seemed to be getting closer and closer to him. Finding a tree with upraised roots, he dived under them and stayed as quiet as he could. Looking out, he could now see who had been chasing him. He was unsure if it was a man, for he was shorter than any man he had ever seen. His dark hair was pulled into a low ponytail. He wore a dark blue coat trimmed with fur. Bilbo could see the axe in his hand and all the other weapons strapped to him, which almost drove the poor hobbit into hysterics.

Bilbo watched as the huntsman, for that was what he most certainly was, crept closer and closer to his hiding spot. He came so close that he brushed against the vines hanging in front of the roots. But the huntsman passed by him, and for a moment, Bilbo allowed himself to relax. However, that was his downfall.

Suddenly there was a great tug from behind him and he found himself dragged backwards. He fought and held on as hard as he could, but it was of no use. After being grabbed on the arm and hearing the gruff “come here,” shouted to him, he screamed out “No!” and turned to try and fight his way out of his capturer’s hands.

Bilbo was shocked when he realized that the dwarf, for it was a dwarf after all, who held him was not a castle soldier after all. Seeing the dwarf looking surprised as well, the hobbit begged for help from him. “Please, please the King is going to kill me.”

“Sure he is,” the dwarf replied, starting to drag his captive along with him.

Bilbo dug his feet into the ground. “He’s going to rip out my heart!” He didn’t know what he would do if this dwarf wouldn’t help him.

“Quick work,” a voice said from behind him. Azog and his soldiers had showed up and he was looking pleased. Bilbo tried to run but the dwarf pulled him back. “Well done, huntsman.” Azog held his hand out and quietly said, “hand him over.”

Bilbo shook his head and looked at the dwarf, begging in his head to not turn him over. The dwarf looked at Azog and asked, “What do you intend to do with him?”

The small smile that was on Azog’s face disappeared. “Why do you care?” he asked cruelly.

The dwarf raised his ax up and pointed it at Azog. “You want him, you give me what I was promised.”

Azog started to slowly pace towards the dwarf. “You did your job well. Now keep your word.” He hand fidgeted on the pommel of his sword.

Bilbo was still trying to run away. “He’ll kill us both,” he warned the dwarf, only to be told to shut up. “He will,” Bilbo warned and after being yelled at again to shut up, almost burst into tears for he was so frightened. Suddenly he was pulled towards the huntsman and the axe blade shoved near his throat. He squeaked and stayed silent.

The huntsman was starting to get truly angry with these men. Holding his axe steady, he yelled at Azog. “I’ll keep my word when the King keeps his. Where is he?!”

Bilbo wondered who this person was that the huntsman was promised. Resigned to his fate, he warned one last time of Azog’s betrayal, and stayed silent.

Azog inclined his head and smirked. “My brother has many powers. He can take life away, or sustain it, but he can’t bring your loved one back from the dead, you fool!”

At this, the huntsman’s rage overcame him. Throwing his captive down behind him, he shouted, “I want him back!” and shoved his axe head into Azog’s neck. He then swung his axe and knocked out two guards at once, before turning and imbedding his axe blade deep into Azog’s side.

Bilbo, realizing his opportunity, scrambled onto his feet and rushed away from the fighting.

Leaving the axe in Azog, the huntsman pulled out his sword just in time to meet another guard coming at him head on. After exchanging blows he knocked him down with a blow to the head and turned to meet the next opponent.

After stabbing the last guard, he turned to find Azog in front of him, having pulled the axe out of his side. Blow after blow was exchanged, the sound of sword meeting sword echoing throughout the forest. Finally, Azog knocked the huntsman down and letting his guard down for only a moment, looked up to just see Bilbo dashing through the trees ahead of him. But that moment was all that the huntsman needed to swing a log into Azog’s head. Stunned, the pale man fell to the ground. The huntsman, who was obviously tired and injured, gave Azog a swift kick, where he landed in a patch of mushrooms that shot up a thick cloud of black gas.

Azog coughed and sputtered, breathing in the vile substance, and watched as the world seemed to change. The forest was moving all around him, and when he looked at his hand, he was horrified to see it start to melt and drip, like a wax candle. Turning his face to the sky he screamed out “I will find you!”

 

The huntsman had instantly recognized the gas and had covered his face and backed away until he was far enough away that the gas would be no threat to him. He then turned, sheathed his sword, and followed the footsteps that the hobbit had left. He could not believe that a hobbit had caused him this much trouble. It was almost as if, but he stopped himself from continuing on that path, as it brought to many painful memories to the surface. He soon caught up to hobbit and grabbed him. Placing a hand over the young man’s mouth, he shushed him and muttered, “Be quiet. Understand?” At the hobbit’s frantic nods, he removed his hand and let go of the hobbit. Quick as a flash the hobbit punched him on the side of the face and stole one of the daggers on his belt. Tasting blood, the huntsman turned and angrily asked, “What the hell’s going on here? Who are you? Why does the King want you dead?”

“He want’s everyone dead, all of us,” the hobbit said panicking, shakily holding the dagger in front of him.

“Well what makes you so damn valuable?” the dwarf asked.

“You should know,” was the retort.” You’re the one hunting me.” The hobbit watched as the huntsman touched his side and groaned in pain, his fingers coming back a shining red.

The dwarf groaned and turned away. “Forget it.” He began to walk away from the young man. “I should have never got involved in the King’s business. What did I get myself into, stupid...” He continued to walk away, voice fading as he went.

Bilbo started to have alarm bell ring in his head. This dwarf was obviously a good tracker and a strong fighter. What was he doing just letting him walk away? “Where are you going?” he called after the dwarf.

The huntsman hissed at him and stopped walking. “I’m getting away from you. You’re trouble, that’s what you are.”

Bilbo quickly ran up to the dwarf. “I need to get to King Thrain’s castle. There’s an army there.”

The huntsman chuckled scornfully. “Oh, King Thrain’s army? A bunch of farmers and milkmaids with pitchforks. No one smart enough would dare to stand up to King Smaug. I know sheep that have more fight in them.”

Bilbo knew he had to persuade this dwarf somehow. “I’m valuable,” he said. “That’s why you’re here, isn’t it? If you return without me you’re dead. If you leave me, I’m dead.” He watched as the dwarf slowly looked at him.

The huntsman walked towards Bilbo and placed his hands deep into his pockets. “Just for argument’s sake, how much reward?” he asked.

“However much is enough,” Bilbo replied.

“At least thirty gold pieces…”

“A hundred,” Bilbo interrupted. The dwarf stared at him with piercing blue eyes that in reminded him of someone in the far reaches of his mind. “Just please help me.”

The dwarf stalked up to him, backing Bilbo into a tree. “Who are you?” he wondered.

“Maybe you should have asked the King that,” Bilbo replied. He was starting to get annoyed with all of the questioning.

The dwarf glowered down at Bilbo. “I don’t trust you,” he growled out.

“I’ve given you my word.”

“I still don’t trust you!” He stepped back a few steps and took his hands out of his pockets. “But you have a deal.” He held his hand out to shake on it. Slowly, disbelievingly, Bilbo reached out and shook it. The dwarf turned and started to walk off, but he had only walked a few steps before he came back and grabbed the dagger back from Bilbo. “Give me that,” he muttered. “Before you lose a finger.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Geeze Huntsman, learn to lighten up a little. I had kinda forgotten how much of a jerk he was in the beginning. 
> 
> (Also I apologize for the crappy action scene. Those are not my strong suit. I will continue to work on it!)

**Author's Note:**

> Ok, so I've had this idea on my brain for a while now. And since I've finally had some time to write, I figured why not get this out? 
> 
> Also, please note that this is not going to be exactly like the movie. I am taking a bit of creative license here so that it better fits the characters and the way the story will end. 
> 
> Hope you like it!


End file.
